


Polaroid Picture

by derangedfangirl



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derangedfangirl/pseuds/derangedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crow Horse tries to convince Ray to let him take some naughty pictures.   Inspired by an accidental prompt from thecarlysutra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid Picture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts).



“You’re insane.”  
  
Crow Horse pressed his hand to his heart, affronted.  “That hurts.”  
  
Ray’s mouth worked silently for a second, eyes going wider than Walter had ever seen them, which was an impressive thing, really, since he’d seen Ray’s face in a variety of shocking situations including but not limited to:  
  
Christmas Morning; the first time he’d found a paddle in Walter’s footlocker; the barber buzzing a strip of hair above his right ear clean off; Christmas Dinner at Walter’s folks’ place; and the time he’d come home after a long, freezing, mid-February shift to find a fire roaring in the decrepit fireplace, a huge pile of blankets nested in front, and Walter in a frilly apron tending to a pot roast.  
  
“You want me to-” Ray’s voice dropped to a hiss, and Crow Horse had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing.  He just nodded solemnly, smiling his most innocent smile.    
  
“Walter.  Can you imagine- what would my mother think?”  
  
Crow Horse snorted.  “Probably about the same thing she’d think if she saw you doing any of the things you do in bed with me, Ray.”  
  
“That’s not the- I am not giving you blackmail material to use for the rest of my life.”  
  
“Ain’t nobody here, Ray, why you whispering?” Walter asked loudly, grinning at the telltale blush spreading across his face.  And the bit of chest peaking out.  And probably lower.      
  
He watched with interest as Ray’s jaw clenched, stubborn resolve clear in every line of his face... then that fine mouth turned up into a smirk.  “You first.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ll let you- if I get to do it first.”  
  
It’s not that Crow Horse was modest, although he figured he had a few years and a few pounds on Ray, and mostly he was pretty damn comfortable with his body, but-  
  
Then again, Walter’s stubbornness was legendary and there was no way he was gonna let Ray get away with calling his bluff.  
  
Fuck it.    
  
He tugged his shirt off and handed the polaroid camera to Ray, who took it with equal parts trepidation and unholy glee.    
  
“Make sure you get my good side.” he instructed, tugging at his belt and toeing his boots off as nonchalantly as he could when Ray had that damned crafty look on his face.    
   
“You have a good side?”  
  
“Everybody has a good side.”  
  
“Huh.” he held the camera up, looking through the viewfinder with his face scrunched up.  “Ready?”  
  
“NO!”  It came out more loudly than intended, and Ray startled, nearly dropping the camera.  
“What?” he asked, exasperated.  
  
Walter rolled his eyes.  
  
“Jesus, Ray, we’re not taking evidence here.  Gotta get sexy first, set the mood, y’know?  And be careful with that.”  
  
“Oh, I see…” Ray’s placed the camera delicately on the bed, voice dipping to what could only be described as a purr, and just where the fuck had _that_ come from?  He crossed to the window, drawing the blinds in a smooth movement, turning to flick on the lamp, and came to rest leaning against the wall, catlike, with none of the anxiety that usually came with talking about sex with Ray in the light of day.  Or even a lamp.  With the lights on in general, really.  
  
Walter had the sneaking suspicion that Ray was fucking with him.  
  
Walter wasn’t sure he cared, what with Ray smoldering at him like that.    
  
“Hand me the camera, take off your shorts, and sit on the bed.”  
  
“What’re you, Ansel Adams?” Walter muttered, not particularly wanting Ray to notice the effectiveness of his technique.    
  
“What?  Ansel Adams does landscapes.” Ah, there, Ray sounded more like himself- then he shook his head and relaxed back into the languid, lazy recline he found so distracting.    
  
Walter handed him the camera.  Ray grinned like a damn wolf and pulled him into a long kiss instead.  
  
A quarter of an hour later, Ray tugged on his boxers and sauntered into the kitchen, whistling and shaking a polaroid which was sure to develop into a picture of Crow Horse in an exceptionally compromising position.  Walter, for his part, remained on the bed, spent and sprawled and motionless, and tried his damnedest to lower his heart rate.  
  
...Walter didn’t even realize he’d never gotten _his_ photograph until the next day.


End file.
